First Impressions by Nora Roberts Page B

have an excuse to give him the full force of her temper. He merely studied her flushed face and furious eyes. “So?” she said at length.
    Something suspiciously like a smile tugged at his mouth. Shane’s eyes narrowed. “So, get back in and I’ll push,” he said, then put a restraining hand on her arm. “Gentle on the gas this time, hot rod. Just put it in drive and easy does it.”
    â€œIt’s a four-speed,” she told him with dignity.
    â€œI beg your pardon.” Vance waited until she had waded her way back to the front of the car. For the first time in months, perhaps years, he had to make a concentrated effort to control laughter. “Let the clutch out slow,” he instructed after clearing his throat.
    â€œI know how to drive,” she snapped, and slammed the door smartly. Frowning into the rearview mirror, Shane watched him until he gave her a nod. With meticulous care, she engaged the clutch and gently pressed on the gas. The front wheels crept slowly onto the planks. The back tires slid, then stuck, then ponderously moved again. Shane kept the speed slow and even. It was humiliating, she thought, glaring straight ahead, absolutely humiliating that he was going to get her out without a hitch.
    â€œJust a little more,” Vance called to her, shifting his weight. “Keep it slow.”
    â€œWhat?” Shane rolled down the window, then stuck her head out to hear his answer. As she did, her foot slipped and fell heavily on the gas. The car shot out of the mud like a banana squeezed from its peel. With a gasp, Shane hit the brake, rocking to an abrupt halt.
    Closing her eyes, she sat for a moment and considered making a run for it. She didn’t dare glance in the rearview mirror now. It wouldn’t be difficult, she reflected, to make a U-turn, then keep right on going. But cowardice wasn’t her way. She swallowed, bit her lip, then climbed out of the car to face the music.
    Vance was kneeling in the mud. He was thoroughly splattered and hopping mad. “
You idiot!”
he shouted before Shane could say a word. Even as she started to agree with him, he continued. “What the hell did you think you were doing? Pea-brained little twit, I told you to take it
slow.
”
    He didn’t stop there. He swore at length, and fluently, but Shane lost track of the content. It was enough to know he was in a justifiable high rage, while she was fighting a desperate battle with laughter. She did her best, her very best, to keep her face composed and penitent. Feeling it would be unwise, as well as useless, to interrupt with apologies, she folded her lips, bit the bottom one and swallowed repeatedly.
    At first she concentrated on keeping her eyes directly on his, hoping the fury there would kill the urge to giggle. But the sight of his mud-splattered face had her sides aching with restrained mirth. She hung her head, ostensibly from shame.
    â€œI’d like to know who the hell told you you could drive,” Vance went on furiously. “And what person with a brain cell working would have parked the car in a swamp to begin with?”
    â€œIt was my grandmother’s garden,” Shane managed in a strangled voice. “But you’re right. You’re absolutely right. I’m so sorry, really . . .” She broke off here as a gurgle of laughter rose dangerously. Clearing her throat, she hurried on. “Sorry, Vance. It was very”—she had to look over his head in order to compose herself—“careless of me.”
    â€œCareless!”
    â€œStupid,” she amended quickly, thinking that might placate him. “Absolutely stupid. I’m really sorry.” Helplessly, she pressed both hands to her mouth, but the giggles came through. “I
am
sorry,” she insisted, giving up as he glared at her. “I don’t mean to laugh. It’s terrible.” Dizzy with the effort of trying to hold back,